


Four

by intoxicatedcinnamon (orphan_account)



Series: 159 (Architect/Interior Designer AU) [5]
Category: Free!
Genre: Chores, Cooking, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 09:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/intoxicatedcinnamon
Summary: Coming home to Haru and a pleasant surprise~Original fan art will be posted in the near future so please follow @attemptingtofan on instagram to see it when it comes out!! It's gonna be a watercolour piece this time and my artist is putting in tons of effort (and tears) so we hope you like it! :D





	Four

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I know it's been ages and ages and ages but I am most certainly. Not dead ^^ I still have lots of plans for writing in the future so please continue to support me minna-san!!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work! If you liked it please leave a comment cos those really make my day and inspire me to keep headcanoning and writing hahahaha. Hope you have a good day! \\\>.

_**19:56:23 From: Haru-chan** _

Coming back soon? 

 

Stepping into Makoto's house has become as comfortable as entering his own by now. Haru lingers in the doorway after turning the lock to send the text, then sits down with a sigh of relief to unlace his black leather shoes. Lights are switched on, and windows opened on Haru's way to the bedroom to change out of his long pants into boxers.

 

_**20:04:16 From: Makoto** _

Yup, just boarded the train, seeya in a bit :) <3 

The heart at the end makes Haru smile (Yes, he admits it now.) and sends a wave of fondness through him. He's not as natural with these things as Makoto is, but the man makes him want to try and try every day of his life. 

Just as he turns, clothes in hand, he sees a cuff of Makoto's favourite white shirt hanging over the edge of the ironing basket. And  _Makoto_ , that escapist, had purposely bought a deep basket to put off ironing for as long as possible so having clothes right up to the brim probably means that he's planning to do massive ironing today or wear polos to work for the next week while he inches slowly up that horrific mountain. He's never actually understood Makoto's distaste for ironing--it's not as hot and sweaty a task for him as Makoto claims, and it makes his mind go pleasantly blank for that half hour while all he focuses on are planes perfectly wrinkle-free cloth and sharp creases. So. Makoto will take about an hour to come home, which gives him plenty of time to iron and start dinner. 

***

"Tadaima!" Makoto calls out the moment he opens the door. "Okaeri," drifts Haru's soft answer from the kitchen. 

 

Makoto hurries into his bedroom to change and partially out of dread for the pile he knows he's going to see, checks his ironing basket from the corner of his eye. 

 

It's empty. 

 

Opening his cupboard with an inkling of what has happened, he is met with the sight of all his work shirts and pants neatly hung up on hangers--not in the order or place that he normally puts them but with the spacing that Haru favours. Shirts with shirts, pants with pants rather than alternating, sandwiched between one another. 

 

Haru's got to his ironing again. He should've known, once that text came in. Haru is cute like that, he'll do something and not tell, but get all eager and excited for Makoto to find out. It's almost like dealing with a little puppy. There are so many layers to the man, so many twists and turns that Makoto has had to take time to slowly unravel with gentle fingers, but he's oh  _so_  simple when it comes to these things. Faint clinks and clanks sound from the kitchen where Haru is, and Makoto strides out of his room in swift motion after he's changed, to peel Haru's collar back from where it's resting against his neck to press a kiss to the pale skin there. "Thanks Haru," he can hear the smile in his own voice. 

 

"It's fine," Haru knows he's not talking about dinner. "I know you don't like ironing." 

 

"I hate it," Makoto agrees. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it all the time, Haru-chan..." 

 

"I don't mind it," Haru dismisses him with a soft look in his eyes that is almost questioning.  _Is something wrong? Did I do it wrong? Do you want me to stop?_ But Makoto will have nothing of that hesitant doubt. Haru is always secretly scrutinising himself to find flaws and correct them the best way he knows how, and while that's probably a good trait to have in moderation, Makoto wishes he'd go easy on himself once in a while. 

 

"My clothes always look way better when you iron them," Makoto says, peering over at what Haru is cooking. He hopes this answers Haru's silent questions. 

 

"What chores don't you like doing then?" Makoto asks. 

 

Haru hesitates, thinking. "I guess... Sweeping the floor?" Makoto stifles a giggle at this. He's seen Haru wrestle with his Magiclean broom, a pout on his lips (and sometimes choice words mumbled under his breath) as he manoeuvres the thing to reach all the corners and bends at his waist to reach under the bed and cupboard and capture all the dust and little pieces of debris. He's offered to help before, but Haru always refuses. 

 

"And?" Makoto prompts softly, his arms encircling the smaller man from behind. There's bound to be more. Haru may be tight lipped about his preferences at times but Makoto has learnt many times that he has a lot more opinion than he lets on. 

 

"Um... Washing the toilet?" His voice is so small and embarrassed that Makoto feels compelled to kiss his ear that's starting to have a red tinge creeping up it. "-Because," Haru hurries to explain before Makoto can say anything. "The-I don't like the... water being dirty-" 

 

"Okay, then I'm taking over those two chores for both our houses alright?" Makoto says authoritatively. "No matter what time I get home." 

 

"It doesn't matter y'know, about the ironing," Haru still puts up some resistance. 

 

"Then it doesn't matter for sweeping and washing the toilet either," Makoto replies jovially. Haru's small huff of laughter tells Makoto that he has acquiesced. He picks up his preparation from before, back still facing Makoto but his frame is relaxed in the embrace. "Can I kiss you while you cook?" Makoto murmurs smoothly in Haru's ear, his arms already tightening their gentle hold to pull Haru more firmly against himself. 

 

"You don't have to ask, you know-" Haru sounds irritated but Makoto knows he's just embarrassed. "I always should and want to check, Haru," Makoto whisper holds a husky edge as his fingers travel up Haru's torso to turn his chin to the side and expose the line of his jaw. He presses a kiss to the hollow under his earlobe, sucking on the skin and taking deep, slow breaths to savour the clean scent of Haru. The sounds of chopping continue, but Makoto can feel the movement of Haru's throat when he swallows. 

 

He slides his palms down again to Haru's stomach, slipping his hand under the work shirt he's wearing and touching his bare skin. "Is this okay?" He whispers in Haru's ear. The roughness in Haru's affirmative tells him that it's  _so okay_ and he's welcome to do more if he wishes. He explores Haru's warm skin, enjoying the bumps of his abs under his palms. When his hands wander a little more towards the waist of his shorts, Haru tenses in the most delicious way that elicts a shiver from Makoto himself. "Gorgeous," he murmurs next to Haru's ear, kissing its shell. Makoto thumbs at Haru's nipples that have started to perk with interest, despite Haru's pretence of hunting for a sauce in the cupboard above. He hasn't let up on the kissing though, now choosing to pay more attention to his shoulders through the cloth and enjoying the way Haru arches his back and pushes his chest just that little bit more into Makoto's touch. Haru has always been more non-verbal in his pleas (not like Makoto who is absolutely shameless when it comes to begging and is thus frequently exploited in the bedroom, but all for mutual benefit). Makoto obligingly slips his hands out and loosely encircles Haru around the waist again when he tries to move to another part of the kitchen, shuffling along with him. 

 

Halfway through the sounds of noodles sizzling in the pan, Haru suddenly reaches back to cup the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss on the mouth, capturing him again and again as they give in to the longing within them. 

 

"Ohmy!" Makoto cries frantically as the first bitter hints of burning reach his nose. "Pay attention to the food Haru-chan!" He breaks from their embrace and reaches over to stir the noodles in the pan before they really start to stick. Haru just switches off the stove, taking the chopsticks from Makoto's hand and dishes the food out onto two plates. "Pay attention to me," he counters sternly, setting the chopsticks down. "Mm, make me," Makoto teases, "the food smells pretty damn good y'know?" 

 

Even though Haru has had his fair share of brashness and bold streaks in their time together, his cheeks still heat at the knowledge that all this teasing is just a joke, that Makoto  _wants_   _him._ Ofcourse, he could do the easy thing and pout which would make Makoto melt anyway, but oh no, Haru has always had high expectations of himself especially when it comes to ways to leave his boyfriend desirous and impatient. He straightens himself, closing that tiny gap between his face and Makoto's jaw. "Won't you touch me, Makoto?" he murmurs, nosing into the hollow behind Makoto's earlobe. His fingers flutter enticingly on the firm shoulder beneath them, and Haru hears Makoto's breath catch. "You smell so good...  _My husband_ ," Haru says the last two words in a whisper, keeps his expression of innocent longing steady, but he's pumping victory fists inside at the way Makoto's eyes darken in a split second when he draws himself away. Haru seldom acts on his knowledge of Makoto's list of kinks, and rarely on weekday nights but it's still early and besides, he hasn't pulled this card out for a while now. 

 

He reaches out for Makoto's arm and sets it around his waist, feeling Makoto tighten his hold without needing to be told. Haru leans into the firm support and fits his hands between their bodies, undoing the first button of his shirt with ease. Makoto's gaze follows the movement of his fingers hungrily, not without a touch of curiosity. When his shirt lies open at the front, a smile tugs at the corners of Haru's mouth and he holds Makoto's forearms, moving his hands from where they're resting at his waist over his clothes to slip onto his bare skin. 

 

And while Haru is busy doing all that... Makoto... Well his brain had stopped working once the word  _Husband_ fell husky and delicate from Haru's lips. He barely notices Haru working on his buttons as well. 

 

With Haru acting like the perfect, demure husband, Makoto can't help but indulge himself and let his hands roam. He's already lost their little battle but it's nothing new--his Haru-chan knows how gone he is for him, or they wouldn't even be here in the first place. When he grasps a firm handful of Haru's ass beneath his palms, Haru leans into his bare chest, the thin boxers just serving to tempt him with the hint of forbidden fruit. 

 

Makoto begins his natural, familiar ascent from Haru's neck to his jaw while Haru tangles his hands in his hair, fingers running through the thick strands haphazardly. But when Makoto's lips hover over Haru's, preparing to take what Haru has almost never denied him, Haru leans back out of his immediate reach and turns his face to the side. 

 

"Paying attention now?" Haru laughs, still angled away as his gaze flicks mockingly over to Makoto. "Am I better than the food now?" Makoto is stunned stock-still for a moment before he breaks into helpless chuckles. "You're the best Haru-chan," he accedes, shifting his palms up to the dip of Haru's lower back when Haru reaches back to tug his boxers back up. 

 

"You're so easy," Haru says, hitting him lightly and easing out of his embrace. "You'll get swindled like this y'know?" He turns easily back to the food and primly takes both plates out to the dining table, back straight and as dignified as can be save for the fact that his shirt is still hanging open with the buttons undone. 

 

"I'M GONNA MAKE YOU TAKE THAT BACK HARU," is hollered from the kitchen in offense. Haru simply smiles to himself because that's what Makoto says every time but it never happens. 

 

Because when they sit for dinner and Makoto's hand is on the table within reach, Haru is the one who extends his and laces their fingers together: they're both easy, so easy, for each other. 


End file.
